After Eden Page 15

  Steve grimaced. “Where did you get this thing?”

  “Works quite well, doesn’t it?”

  “Too damned well! You’ve killed innocent men!”

  “Bloodthirsty savages, don’t you mean?”

  “It was only a joke!”

  “A joke! Unfortunately, no one told me it was only a joke. I took it seriously.”

  Through a mist of rage, part of Andrea realized they were screaming at each other as if they needed to. And of course they did. At least she did. She would like to scream other things, even more revealing.

  “If one of these men dies, I’m holding you personally responsible,” he gritted.

  “That’s hardly likely!” she screamed, knowing damned good and well that no one would die from what she’d shot at them.

  “See if I don’t!” Enraged, he looked as if he might drag her off her horse and throttle her.

  Andrea took a deep breath and searched for a rational statement to cool his temper and her own.

  “Your men will be fine.”

  “Like hell they will,” he growled, looking around at his crippled riders. Amazingly, one by one, half-naked savages struggled to their feet, hobbled to their horses, dusted themselves off, mounted, and rode away.

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” Steve muttered.

  “Not bad for rubber pellets, was it?” she asked proudly.

  “Rubber pellets!”

  “Well, I didn’t want to hurt any of Judy’s friends.”

  Steve’s mouth dropped open. Judy, who had ridden up just in time to hear the last remark, laughed merrily, completely undaunted.

  “I thought you didn’t know,” he said, watching her.

  Andrea shrugged. “One of the Mexicans told me. She saw Judy getting ready to give me a welcome.” It was out now. They would know she meant Tía.

  But Steve seemed to accept the information at face value, and Judy only laughed. “I guess she is your sister, Steve,” she said. “She’s smart enough to give us a run for our money, or, I should say your money!”

  Andrea smiled serenely at Steve, then turned to eye her nemesis with newfound respect. Judy Burkhart was turning out to be more of an enigma than she had expected. The girl wasn’t the least perturbed about her failure—probably because she knew she would have lots of opportunities.

  Andrea had expected her charade to end, but it hadn’t. Relief flooded her at the realization. She wasn’t yet willing to let Steve know she had lied to him in that hotel room. And she was sure he was in no mood to have her outfox him again.

  At least she had accomplished one thing: Steve and Judy both knew they were not dealing with a namby-pamby female who would turn tail and run every time they tried to upset her.

  There was satisfaction in that, but not enough to dispel the sudden weariness that assailed her. She positively sagged in her saddle. Even in dusty little Tubac, a hangout for murderers, fleeing bandits, and prostitutes, she and Tía had always been outsiders. Mama disputed that. She claimed that all people were essentially insiders, inside the wrong groups, perhaps, but insiders nonetheless. Mama and Tía seemed to accept this odd philosophy, but Andrea hated being forced to live on the fringes of polite society.

  Tía didn’t understand. She had been content in a busy, active household that revolved around Mama’s friends—gamblers, fancy ladies, rustlers, miners, and even hunted men passing through. Mama had certainly been content. She was the undisputed leader of her social circle of outcasts, but Andrea had hated it. Mama might think it better to be the queen of the misfits, but Andrea had wanted only to be accepted by respectable people. All her life she had felt like an orphan peering into her neighbor’s window. She could see into the house, and sometimes the residents would tolerate her looking in, but she wasn’t allowed inside. Periodically someone would notice her there and toss a dipper of water on her. Then she would stay away for a while, but she always went back. Here she was again, hanging by her nails on their windowsill, looking in Steve and Judy’s window. God, how she hated it.

  Now Tía was, if anything, one rung down the ladder—the admitted illegitimate daughter of a man so cowardly he had only acknowledged his bastard after his death, leaving his children to cope with his announcement as best they could.

  Understandably they hated their new relation and would not accept Teresa Andrea Garcia-Lorca without a fight. And in any sort of fight, Steve and Judy had all the weapons. Tía had been lucky this time, as she had. But she and Tía were the intruders, the ones on the outside, and supposedly the “pilgrims.” Judy and Steve had the money and the power that came with years of advantage and possession.

  Judy and Steve turned their horses north toward their destination, Rancho la Reina. Andrea bit her lip and looked beyond them, across the vast valley that was now half Tía’s. The mountains to the east—half-obscured by waves of heat—shimmered in the sun’s glare. A massive flood of sand covered by sparse, yellowed grass and scrub bushes blending into the horizon seemed to go on forever. The valley was majestic and wide.

  As Andrea watched, Judy turned in her saddle, said something to Steve, and he reached over and patted her hand. A heavy lump formed in Andrea’s throat. She had won the battle and lost the war. Her little triumph had soured quickly. All she had accomplished with her show of bravado was to unite Steve and Judy solidly against her. Now neither she nor Tía would be able to win a place for themselves here.

  Chapter Eleven

  Relieved that no one was hurt, Tía relaxed and enjoyed the rest of the ride to her new home. They seemed to be going slightly uphill. The horses labored under the hot sun. At times the slope steepened, and they all dismounted and walked. Hours after leaving Tombstone, they rode into a valley. Johnny dropped back and waited for Tía, who kept lagging to look at everything.

  “This here’s the Sulphur Springs Valley. The altitude’s a little higher here.”

  “It’s so big. How far is the house from Tombstone?”

  Johnny smiled at how her choice of the word “house” showed her limited notion of what she was going to find. “About fifty miles. The first twenty are the roughest, through the Dragoons and the Pinalenos.” He waved at the hills behind them.

  Tía noted the distance with amazement. Tubac was only fifty miles from Tombstone, which was fifty miles from the Burkhart ranch! She had lived less than a hundred miles from her father and half brother all her life and never suspected their existence. On horseback a mere two days’ ride.

  Johnny was still speaking. “…easy going once we get onto the valley floor.”

  A light wind blew from the north. Smelling of pine, fir, and cedar, the air was cooler here, tinged with mountain crispness. “How long do you think Steve will stay at the ranch?”

  “A week or so, anyway. Until he can figure out some way to make peace between Judy and Andrea.”

  “Is that what he wants?”

  “You ever known a man who wanted to get caught in the middle of a cat fight?”

  Tía laughed. “Maybe. If he thought one of the cats would leave and not come back.”

  “Steve isn’t dumb enough to believe that. He knows you can’t keep a cat away from cream permanently.”

  “You think he’s resigned to her staying?”

  Johnny’s dark eyes narrowed. “You ever think of anyone besides Steve?”

  “Occasionally.” Enjoying the chagrin on his handsome face, Tía urged her horse into a run, leaving Johnny behind. She didn’t know why, exactly, but she felt wonderful. The sky was as blue as it could get and stretched from horizon to horizon without a single cloud. The air filled her with a feeling of power and hope. She forgot everything that had been bothering her and enjoyed the ride so much she barely noticed as one shamefaced, dark-skinned rider after another melted into the party’s ranks.

  Judy slowed her horse to fall in beside Tía. “What did Johnny want? When he came back to talk to you…what did he want?”

  “Oh, nothing. He just asked if I was all right.” />
  “You kill me,” Judy said, smiling.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you, Tía Marlowe! The best-lookin’ fella in the territory is buzzing around you right in front of his mistress, and you still manage to look big-eyed and innocent.”

  Tía was no prude, but she had never heard a decent woman admit to being a man’s mistress before. Even the fancy ladies in Tubac had feigned ignorance of their status. Among Mama’s friends, women who lived openly with men did not call themselves mistresses. They congregated, in Mama’s parlor and kitchen and talked about any number of things, but they always pretended they were respectable. But Judy, who obviously was respectable, pretended to be otherwise.

  “Hey, Tía, want a cigarette? I bought some in town…special blend and prerolled.”

  Judy loved Tía’s expressions. At the moment Tía looked as if she expected lightning to strike them both. Judy could not resist. Leaning close to Tía and reining in both their horses, she glanced around furtively. Then, in a stage whisper, she said, “It’s okay, Tía. God knows I smoke, and he hasn’t said a word about it to me. He knows better!”

  Tía glanced both ways. Also in a stage whisper, she said, “Then…it’s safe to be…this close to you?”

  “Course! We have a very workable relationship, God and me. He minds his business, and I mind mine. I don’t tell him how to grow grass or make cows from scratch, and he cuts me some slack. Actually…” She paused, smiling. “He’s as easy as any man I know. I can’t help it if men find me irresistible.”

  Tía laughed.

  Pleased, Judy continued. “Grant says I’ve always been able to charm my way through just about anything, and I guess he’s right. Hey!” she said, frowning. “Do you really like me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought so. I could see it in your eyes. You have nice eyes. Most women have eyes so cold they could make ice with ’em. I can’t charm women, except for the old ones. They think I’m cute and sweet. I have a very innocent face, too, don’t you think so? Even when I’m being sultry.”

  “I don’t know. Be sultry.”

  Straightening her back and composing her features, Judy lifted her chin, eased her head back, then looked down her nose and gave Tía a smoldering look.

  “Now that is sultry!” she said with admiration. “I would never be able to do that in public.”

  “It is sultry, isn’t it? It works, too! Every time.”

  Tía was amazed. Judy must have been far more protected than she had been. In Mama’s circle the goal was not to be dragged off and sold to comancheros. A woman did not have to be sultry to get a man. She just had to stop holding them off with a gun. But Tía didn’t want to make Judy feel bad, so she played along. “You must be very popular with the fellas.”

  “Listen, sweet-face, I don’t know where you came from, but out here in this desert, Lucrezia Borgia would be very popular. The only requirement is that you should have a pulse. But I did get to practice on real men once when we went to New Orleans. I flirted with six handsome young gentlemen at one time.”

  Holding her own wrist, Tía pretended to take her pulse. “I think I’ve got one,” she said, feigning surprise and pleasure.

  Judy leaned close. “Well, do us both a favor and don’t tell Johnny. He’ll find out soon enough.”

  Tía stopped smiling. “Are you in love with Johnny?”

  “Yes. I’ve been in love with him for years.”

  “Are you truly worried about losing him?”

  Judy kicked her horse into a walk, and Tía did likewise.

  “No, not really! I just like to tease you. Johnny has always loved me, ever since he discovered I was a girl. I was twelve and he was seventeen. Goodness, eight years! That is a long time!”

  “It is. When…when are you getting married?”

  The distance between them and the other riders widened. Urging her horse a little faster, Judy laughed. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided that yet. Of course, there is the small problem of his being away for the last three years…”

  “Away?”

  “Yes! He got mad because he thought I was untrue to him, and he left, never to return. Tried to get himself killed, and all he succeeded in doing was getting a name for himself as a fast gun.”

  “When did he come back?”

  “Almost three months ago. I can’t believe he’s been home that long, and we just now got things patched up between us.”

  Tía nudged her horse with her booted foot, and Judy followed. They rode in silence for several minutes, then Judy sighed. “Johnny’s good at everything. But he’s a little too bossy sometimes. And…he doesn’t like for me to have friends.”

  “Why not?”

  Judy grinned. “Because all my friends are men! Johnny’s the jealous type.”

  “Oh.” Catching a glimpse of a walled enclosure, Tía stopped her horse. “Is that Fort Bowie?”

  “No, silly. That’s home. Fort Bowie is brick and concrete, up by Apache Pass, about three miles. Home looks like a fort, though. Daddy was an army man before he came west. He built the walls to protect us from Indian attacks. Real Indians! We have a commissary, a cantina, three bunkhouses, and a cabin that Johnny built to be by himself.”

  As they rode closer detail became apparent. Rough, pink adobe blocks, stacked seven to ten feet high, encircled an area approximately an acre in size. Raised platforms at each corner served as sentry posts. Heavy closed gates hung between portals wide enough apart for a wagon to pass comfortably.

  “Some Fort Bowie, huh?” Judy said. “I only wish!”

  “Why do you wish?” Tía asked, kicking her horse to keep up with Judy, who had quickened her pace again.

  “Because I like men in uniform. There’s just something about thirty or forty men in uniform…”

  “Who’s Grant?”

  “Grant?” Judy frowned. “How did you know about Grant?”

  “You said that he said you have charm.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Grant’s my best friend. He’s one of our riders.”

  “One of these?” Tía asked, gesturing to the men ahead of them now.

  “No. He didn’t come today. You’ll meet him. How old are you, Tía?”

  “Almost eighteen. I’ll be eighteen in November.”

  “Seventeen?” she asked wonderingly. “You look younger.”

  Tía blushed. “Because I’m so skinny.”

  Judy looked at her with an appraising eye. “You’re not skinny. You have nice soft curves…not overblown like some people I know,” she said, glancing with disdain at Andrea, riding at the front of the ragged pack.

  “She seems nice,” Tía said hesitantly.

  “Are you going to be a traitor and be on her side?”

  “Do we all have to choose up sides?”

  “How can we help it?”

  “Johnny said the mine was making a lot of money.”

  “It’s not the money. It’s the principle of the thing. My father did this to get his revenge against my mother. I can’t let him win.”

  “But he’s dead. Why would he want to hurt you? What does that have to do with Andrea?”

  “You weren’t here for the reading of his will. My father, at least the man I always called Father, cut me out of his will. He split everything between Andrea and Steve. I didn’t get any part of the mine or the ranch.”

  Amazed, Tía stared at Judy. “But why?”

  Pain flashed in Judy’s eyes. She shrugged and looked away. I guess he didn’t think I was his kid.”

  “What happened to your mother?” Tía asked. “Couldn’t she stop him?”

  “She left years ago,” she said, not meeting Tía’s gaze.

  “She just left you? Why didn’t she take you with her?”

  Fidgeting with the reins, Judy looked away. “I was only eight. They fought over me, but my father wouldn’t let my mother take me. He loved me too much. It broke my mother’s heart to leave me.”

  “I’m sure it did,” Tía s
aid loyally.

  Judy glanced over at Tía, an odd look in her eyes. It matched the baffled little laugh that escaped, but not the nonchalant shrug of her slim shoulders. “Sure,” she said ironically. “Everybody loves pretty little Judy. Bet you wouldn’t guess, just to look at me, that nobody has ever really loved me.”

  Confused, Tía frowned. “Steve loves you.”

  “Steve doesn’t count. He’s my brother. He has to love me. No one who doesn’t have to love me has ever loved me.”

  Judy’s eyes strove desperately for nonchalance, but the look didn’t come off. Tía reached out and covered Judy’s gloved hands with her own. “Johnny loves you,” she said softly.

  “Oh, I forgot,” she said quickly, forcing a smile.

  “I love you, too.”

  Tears brimmed in Judy’s eyes. Impatiently she shook her head fast to fling the tears away. “I’m terrible,” she said finally, her voice thick with sadness.

  “No, you’re not!”

  “You’re sweet, Tía. Maybe if you help me, I can be good.”

  “What kind of help do you need?”

  “All kinds! I don’t know…things just go wrong…I don’t know why.”

  “Then I’ll help you.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes,” Tía said firmly, meaning it. She would start by telling Judy the truth. But first she needed to talk to Andrea so they could do it together.

  They rode in silence for a long while. A Gila monster—its black-and-yellow mottled skin looking like a beaded bag that had gone awry—sunned itself on a long slab of granite, its low-slung body and fat, stumpy tail an odd match for its reptilian head. Tía stopped to watch. It looked like a lizard crafted by a clumsy child with a bad sense of proportion. Its leather had a dull glow, like painted, fiery pottery. Little raised beads covered the body from head to foot, evenly spaced except on the legs, where the beads were crowded together in a solid mass, looking more like a cluster of grapes than legs.

  Sluggishly the Gila raised its head and flicked its tongue at Tía. The round, beady eye on that side of its head looked as dead as any of the other beads on the odd creature. Tía realized she hadn’t seen a Gila for months.